We've had one of those days. Weeks, actually. The one year old can now open doors, the three year old now has staples in his head after a late evening trip to the ER, and yesterday was one thing after another... including an incident involving three little boys, 5 jars of cake sprinkles, and the floor of a very messy playroom.
After the tenth frustrating event in a row, and numerous time-outs spent in various places (including mommy hiding out with chocolate and an icy Dr. Pepper), I told the boys that the only toy they could play with for the rest of the afternoon was a bin of blocks. And they weren't to leave the area rug. For the rest of their lives. No, that isn't true. I'm kicking them out at 18.
Amazingly, the heavens opened up, and beams of light shone in the living room. There was peace. And harmony. The sounds of two little boys playing and creating together with simple, beautifully made wooden blocks (thank you John, Char, McKinnon, and Monet!). It only lasted about five minutes before blocks were flying at stapled heads, but it was a lovely five minutes.